Twisted
by eri01
Summary: A funeral is never pleasant. . . especially if it's yours. Unless Amy Cahill wants to end up dead in a coffin, she will have to figure out who her sister's murderer is. But she lives in a twisted world, where one second you think you know who the good guys are, and the next, you don't.
1. What a Wonderful Morning

**I must become a lion-hearted girl. **(Rabbit Heart, Florence and the Machine)

The phone rings.

My eyes snap up toward the device. It rings once more before Uncle Fiske stands up from his usual chair by the window and picks it up.

"Hello?" he greets, swallowing hard.

My heart pounds in my chest.

I watch with growing anxiety as Uncle Fiske nods, his grey eyes now looking at his feet. There's a dull but unreadable look in his eyes, which makes me even more nervous.

"Thank you," he says, barely whispering as he hangs up.

I stare at him expectantly, longing to hear his voice, informing me that everything is okay. That they found her, that I will get to see her again. . . that she's not dead.

He remains quiet, gazing at me.

And even though I already know what the answer is, hope still lingers in my heart. She can't be gone. . . she _isn't_ gone.

The atmosphere feels surreal as I hold his gaze, my eyes wide with concern and expectancy.

Fiske opens his mouth to speak.

"They found her."

I feel my heart skip a beat as I look down at the floor, a smile forming in my lips. "I knew it. . ."

I look up at him, my face bright.

"I knew she'd be back," I exclaim.

Fiske places his hands together in front of him, his lips curling down. He hesitates. "They found her body."

My smile falters. I feel my face pale, my green eyes sting. But I still don't grasp the situation.

"I'm so sorry," Fiske continues. "Nellie. . . Nellie's been dead for three weeks now."

My head falls down, and I try to clear off my mind. To think, to _understand_ what's going on. But my sister's smile keeps popping up in my mind, and I can even hear the upbeat music emerging from her room. As my eyes travel toward the kitchen, I can already imagine her standing there, baking her desserts as she tells me about her recent article. An article about _her_ adventure. I can hear her, telling me with the strongest voice how she never gave up, how she always kept herself convinced that she'd return home. How she was never scared for her life, because she knew that they'd find the ones that took her. I can even feel my admiration for her as she tells me her story, my longing to be as brave and strong as she is.

But that won't happen.

She's dead.

She will never be back home.

She will never bake my favorite cookies.

She will never make me laugh, or tell me stories

She won't ever braid my hair, she won't ever help me pick out a book.

She's gone.

"The police want us in their office," Fiske's voice rings out.

I nod, not able to talk. And even though the tears well in my eyes, they won't slide down. But that's better. Nellie used to be the strong one, and us the weaklings, the ones who received her daily encouragement. Now that she's gone. . .

I look up at Fiske, whose cheeks are streaked with tears.

He's sixty-seven, and sick. The news probably shook all of his will out. He won't be able to be the strong one of the group, and so won't Dan. He's too busy with college. I'll have to be the one who endures.

I stand up from the couch, dropping the book I was reading in the process. Not that I could read much, anyways. Nellie has been on my mind in the past weeks, and she hasn't been able to get out. And apparently, she won't.

"_Boston Affairs_ will also be there," Fiske announces.

It is quite obvious, actually. _Boston Affairs_ is a newspaper founded by the Kabra family a decade ago. They are a powerful British family, who moved here ten years ago to expand _Affairs_, a series of newspapers created by them. Seven countries already count with a national edition. Nellie had recently gotten a job with them a year ago. And according to Mr. Kabra, she was a delightful worker.

"Let's head out," I suggest, grabbing my coat.

A long day awaits, better start now.

* * *

So I know this is short, but hopefully, the coming chapters will be longer. If you find this quite confusing, don't worry, the next chapter will definitely explain everything that's going on. And as I'm sure you already know, this has nothing to do with the hunt.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed :)

-Elizabeth


	2. Amy the Mouse

**There's nothing here to run from. **(Don't Panic, Coldplay)

_Five months ago, Nellie Cahill was finishing up the article that brought her fame –the article that exposed lawyer Cora Wizard of embezzling her law firm's co-workers, Alistair Oh and Eisenhower Holt._

_But on November 1, Ms. Cahill never returned home from work. After an incessant search from part of her family, the twenty-four-year-old was reported missing on November 2._

_Ms. Cahill has been part of the media frenzy for three weeks now –reporters urging people to come forward with information about her, detectives tirelessly searching for the girl, and her family members holding up to hope. Today, we can finally answer what happened to Ms. Cahill._

_Yesterday night, an underage civilian found her body in a field at the outskirts of Boston. According to forensics, the girl had been shot to death the same night she went missing. After receiving two shots, whomever responsible transported her body to the field. De-_

"Isn't it unhealthy for you to read that?"

I look up, just to find an amber-eyed boy looking down at me. He's holding a medium-sized box in his arms as he gazes at me with an unreadable expression.

Slowly, I begin to close the newspaper. "I was just amazed by how fast news travel."

The boy nods. "Thirty minutes after they found her, reporters were already swarming the area."

He takes the newspaper from my hands.

"There are picture of her. . . body. You know how _The Reporter_ likes to give out the gory details."

I remain silent.

It still feels surreal to me. It seems as if just one second ago, Nellie was here, all upbeat and smiling. And the next. . . well, I'm sitting in a lonely hallway, hiding from everybody else so I can silently think about her sealed faith.

"This is Nellie's," the boy says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

He hands me the box.

I take it, and gasp once I realized those are the things from her office. "Shouldn't these be in evidence?"

The boy shakes his head. "I managed to get those out for you. The police said they were useless in their investigation, anyways."

I open the box and begin to rummage through her things. I can't help but smile as I come across her Yoshi figurine. When I was six, my dad, Nellie and I had begun the Mario Bros. Video Game Club. I was only in it because I wanted to be like my sister at the time, but I have to admit, I did enjoy playing with my family. My sister loved those videogames so much, that my dad got her an original Yoshi figurine from his trip to Japan. She treasured it as if it were her life.

Two years later, our house was set on fire. I remember racing to the flaming house just to get her the figurine. She was mad at me, but she still promised she'd treasure it even more than before.

My smile disappears as I come across a photo frame. I recognize my seven-year-old self next to my smiling family. We're in front of an airport, and I instantly recognize the setting. For Nellie's thirteenth birthday, my parents gave her a trip to Disneyland, with my brother and I included. It was my first time traveling by an airplane, so I was more than excited. It was there when she promised me that we'd travel together somewhere faraway when I graduated high school. If only she'd lived for six more months, we would've been able to fulfill it.

I can feel the boy gazing at me.

I look up, offering him a grateful smile. "I don't even know who you are, and you got me these. Thank you."

The boy grins, stuffing his hands in his coat's pockets. "You don't know who I am?"

I feel my cheeks redden as I shake my head.

"I'm Ian," he replies, offering his hand. "Vikram Kabra's son."

I stare blankly. After a few seconds, my eyes widen and I quickly shake his hand. How could I not recognize him? I've seen Mr. Kabra million of times before, and I can assure you, this boy looks exactly like a younger version of him. Jet black hair, olive-colored skin, tall, a mysterious glint about him. . . and, well, handsome.

"I'm Amy," I reply. "Though you already know who I am."

Ian chuckles. "You might be older, but anyone would recognize you by that picture."

He points at the photo frame from before.

As I glance at it, I spot a manila envelope right next to it. Frowning, I take it out and flip it. _Family Outing._

"What's this?" I ask.

He gazes at it before shrugging.

The envelope's title is printed on it, which makes me even more curious.

The eighteen-year-old boy's phone beeps.

I turn to look up at Ian.

"I've gotta go," he announces, gazing at his iPhone. He glances at me. "It was nice meeting you, Amy."

I lock eyes with him. "You too."

There's a ghost of a smile in his lips as he inspects me. "I'm guessing Nellie told you about the book she was working on."

I nod. "Yeah. . . she never told me what it was about, though."

"My father was planning on publishing a new chapter every week in _Boston Affairs_," he informs. "Would you like it if I gave it to you? It's not finished, but. . ."**_  
_**

My eyes brighten. "Of course. I would love that."

He's smirking now. "Then it's settled. How about Friday at Starbucks? I'll treat you to a Vanilla Frappuccino."

I tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear. Amidst the situation, I'm smiling back at him. "Did she mention how much I enjoy those?"

"We have a Starbucks in the office," he answers. "She always took one for you, didn't she?"

"That's right."

"Good," he says. "I'll be waiting for you at five, then."

And with that, he leaves.

I gaze at his retreating figure, my cheeks slightly flushed. And then I remember the manila envelope in my hands. I open it, and take out the three papers that are inside. One is blank, which baffles me. And the other. . .

I flip it around, just to find a small message on it.

_My favorite game has always been Cat and Mouse._

I frown.

_But in this one, who will be the mouse? Me. . . or you? Unless you want to end up captured, solve your sister's murder._

I gasp, nearly dropping the paper.

I inspect it once more, my green eyes widening as I gulp. It's typed, a clear sign that whoever wanted me to see this didn't want to be known. I read it over five more times, each time realizing what a strong threat it is. A _fatal_ threat.

Remembering that there's another paper in the manila envelope, I quickly take it out. As I flip it around, I realize it's a picture. There are two men –one is handing money to the other. I narrow my eyes, trying to recognize who they are. The one who's receiving the money is Mr. Kabra, and the other. . . the other is Alistair Oh.

* * *

As I promised, this one's longer than before. And hopefully, a few things have been cleared out. If any of you are familiar with Sara Shepard, the message thing might sort of remind you of her books. And that's because, after reading Pretty Little Liars and The Lying Game, I got inspired to write this. Maybe I should've mentioned it before, but I didn't want to give the whole thing away.

Anyways, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)

-Elizabeth


	3. The Darkest Noon

**We walk the plank with out eyes wide open.** (Eyes Wide Open, Gotye)

"We're here."

I gaze out the cab's window. A tall and baroque-styled building comes into view –the offices of _Boston Affairs_. I take a deep breath as I take out money from my wallet, my eyes still glued to the building.

"Thank you," the driver says, as he accepts the money. "Have a nice day, miss."

I dazedly nod at him before stepping out. The sharp cold weather bites my cheeks as I stuff my hands in my pocket, still uncertain of what I am going to do. And for one second, I decide to go back home. But then, the manila envelope threat flashes in my mind, and I stay.

Full with determination, I make my way toward the building. Once I am on the entrance stairs, I take out a key from my pockets. _Boston Affairs_ closed for the day to respect Nellie, so everything is locked and dark. However, Nellie's stuff held the master key given to every employee.

After throwing a discreet glance behind my shoulder, I open the door and stealthily step inside. Taking out my phone, I turn it on and use it as a source of light.

Getting threatened is not at the top of my to-do list, especially not now. And the only way to stop this is to do as told as soon as possible –and maybe find out who decided to stuff that manila envelope in Nellie's stuff. And to find out anything that revolves around Nellie, _Boston Affairs_'s files are the place to look. Everything concerning its employees is stored in a large carpet. And there must be something in there that could lead me to a crucial clue.

I open the door leading to the stairs. Glowing the light around it, I sigh shakily. Roaming around a dark and empty building with my possible killer at the loose isn't something to be happy about. But it's something I have to do. I close the door behind me, and begin to climb up the stairs.

Everything is pitch black, and my phone light doesn't really help much.

But that should be the least of my worries.

There's a feeling that someone else is in here. . . following my every move, being careful not to get caught as they reach out to grab me-

_Clap._

I gasp as I begin to glow the light behind me. I could swear I heard someone nearly tripping in the dark stairs. I spot nothing, though. After staying frozen in place for a while, straining to hear or see anything, I decide that it must've been a small animal or something. But I still can't shake off that feeling that there's someone other than me in the building. I continue my road upstairs, this time a little faster, trying to ignore my fears. It's probably just my imagination, anyways.

I feel my jaw slacken in relief as I spot the door to the fifth and last floor. As I get out my key, I realize my hands are shaking. I try to steady them as I unlock the door. Before I step completely inside, I look behind me, just to try and make sure that no one's really there.

There's nothing.

Quickly, I close the door and make my way to the end of the hallway, where Mr. Kabra's office is found. That's the only room to which I don't have a key for, but I've already got an idea at hand.

_Creak._

I turn around, my heartbeat speeding up. It sounded just as if the door opened. . . gulping, I slowly return to my previous spot, my eyes wide. Faster than before, I nearly jog toward Mr. Kabra's office, halting to an abrupt stop once I reach it. Getting out a bobby pin, I remember my brother's lesson to pick locks as I insert the short wire through the keyhole. After a minute or so, I smile as the door opens. As I step in, I lock it behind me. After hearing and sensing stuff, I don't think it'd be smart to risk leaving a door wide open for a killer to sneak on me as I concentrate on files.

Mr. Kabra's office is quite huge. His desk is right by the window, which gives the room a dim lighting –just like the one you receive by dawn. Spotting the wooden drawers at the other side of the room, I walk toward them, searching for the _C_ category. As soon as I find it, I try pulling it open, realizing with happiness that I won't need a bobby pin for this one. I soon find the carpet named _Cahill_ and flip it open.

As soon as I do so, Nellie's smiling face appears right in front of me. It's so bizarre, to look at a bright picture of her. If she'd just knew what would happen to her. . . I flip it over, and skim through the papers in it. Articles, congratulatory letters and payment receipts are the only things I find. With disappointment, I realize that there's nothing helpful in it. I close it, staring blankly at it. Guess shaking off the threat thrown my way won't be easy. I store it back in its place, and get ready to leave. Before I do so, though, an envelope sticking out from one of Mr. Kabra's desk drawers catches my eye. It won't hurt to look.

As soon as I reach the desk, the first thing I try to do is to open the drawer. But it's either jammed or locked, and I don't think a hairpin will be helpful this time. I place my thumbs and forefingers on the envelope, and carefully begin to pull. Surprisingly, it comes out easily. I flip it open, and my hear stops as I recognize Nellie's handwriting.

_Mr. Kabra._

I open it, and gasp as soon as I spot what's inside. It's a wad of money. There's more than $5000 in there. I take out an amount of it, just to realize there's a note stuck in between it.

_I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore. I need to tell the truth. Not only was her life ruined, but so was her family's. Count me out._

I stare at the note blankly. Tell the truth. . . a hollow feeling dawns on me. Nellie is a good girl –there's no way she'd been meddling in ruining someone's life. I glance around the desk and drawers, getting out a binder with Nellie's initials on it. I open it, and my face pales as I realize it's a research on Cora Wizard. And not research you find in the internet or in newspapers, research that only someone who knew her personally could have. Bank transactions, college records. . . as I skim through it, I realize that there's no evidence on her robbing from her law firm's co-workers. Was it stored somewhere else?

A book falls down.

Before I can turn around, though, a pair of strong hands are placed around my neck.

I gasp, trying to take them off. But the grip's too tight.

With all my might, I try to push away from my attacker, but he or she simply tightens their fingers around my neck. Soon, I feel as if air can't feel my lungs anymore, and I violently begin to pull away, to _breath_. I grab a metal pencilcase nearby, but before I can attack the intruder, I'm pushed toward the desk. The attacker tries to grab my arm, but I quickly stand up and run toward the door. Breathing heavily, I run down the hallway, down the stairs. I can hear footsteps behind me, each time getting closer, just centimeters behind me. I reach the lobby, and with growing anxiety, I push the doors leading outside open. As I run down the steps, I look behind me. There's no one.

Before I know it, my body bumps against another. I quickly balance myself, preventing me from falling on my butt.

"Argh."

"I'm so sorry," I apologize, looking up to meet a pair of warm brown eyes.

"It's alright," the guy says, shaking off his hands, which are now dripping with coffee.

I look down at the floor, which is stained with spilled coffee.

My face reddens. "Oh God."

I bend down to pick up the guy's wallet, just as he does.

_Beep._

I stop midway.

"Excuse me," I say.

I take out my phone, and see the screen.

_1 New Message._

I open it, and as soon as I read it, dismay dawns on me.

_What was today's lesson? Oh, that's right. Not everyone's as innocent as it seems. Including your sister. But more specifically, Mr. Vikram Kabra. Now, what could he be hiding in that locked drawer?_

I feel the hairs in the back of my neck spike up.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to the guy, as I turn around to leave.

They guy's eyes are still on me, and I can even feel the worry in them. But I don't care.

The threat suddenly sounds even more real than before.


End file.
